


In the Afterdays

by Apatheia_Jane



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apatheia_Jane/pseuds/Apatheia_Jane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written the morning after I watched Battlestar Galactica instead of sleeping, then tidied up to be submitted for a class. I wouldn't really describe it as all that graphic, but it may be triggery for some, includes interrogation scenes legal in the verse its set in, which is not here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Afterdays

Hana had no idea of where she was, or where the nearest console was. She hesitated at the end of the corridor, trying to decide which way to go. At the whirr of a keller charging, she spun around to face the guard who had snuck up behind her. A lithe slender woman with keller outstretched, fifteen metres and closing. Her heart sank. The alarm had almost certainly been raised already.

"Drop your weapon!"

"I don't want to hurt you," Hana held up the weapon she'd found earlier, hoping desperately that she wouldn't have to use it, and edged around the guard, keeping moving to make sure no one else was sneaking up behind her. She'd taken a lot of self-defence classes after she became a public figure, and she could probably hold her own against one guard, but it wouldn't take long for the reinforcements to arrive and there was nowhere she could hide.

"Then drop the keller, and put your hands behind your head." The guard showed no sign of backing down, cautious bravery in every step she took.

"I'll make a deal with you," Hana ventured, her eyes flickering continuously to check for the other guards, surely close by now, mentally cursing herself for letting this guard get so close.

"I'm not authorised to negotiate with-""

Hana cut her off. "This deal, you can make yourself. I'll drop it, and let you lock me back up, just come visit me in my cell."

"You want me to visit you? Why?" The guard looked rather incredulous, and Hana didn't really blame her.

"I wasn't trying to escape, I just needed to know what was going on around here. No one would tell me anything," she said quickly and pleadingly, "I wasn't asking for classified information, just basic news reports. Just answer a few of my questions, for at least fifteen minutes, without lying to me." If she'd seen an excuse to sneak aboard a transport ship, she would have taken it, but she never expected to be able to actually escape. She was out of her cell simply because the vent was loose and she couldn't stand being ignored and ignorant in that little cage any longer. Hoping to access the central database, or find a way to contact someone who hadn't been arrested yet, would have been as optimistic as she could manage.

"That's it?" the guard asked doubtfully.

"That's all I want, I promise." She tried to sound as earnest and sincere as possible, painfully aware of her lack of credibility. She thought she used to sound more convincing when she was spouting platitudes from behind a lectern in a room full of journalists in a power suit and perfect makeup than she did now, desperately begging for knowledge and company in the pyjamas she'd been arrested in, which were grubby and ripped by now.

The guard thought it over, then nodded tersely. "Now drop it."

Hana slowly took a step back and lowered her weapon towards the ground. She slowly straightened, trying to hide the stiffness and pain in her knees and back, and stepped away from it, raising her hands to rest against the back of her neck. She tensed further, unsure of whether she'd now be beaten or interrogated again for breaking out of her cell.

"Where did you get the keller? Is there a guard lying unconscious I should send a medic for?" the guard demanded, uncertainty on her face. She crouched and picked up the now-inert stick Hana had dropped and placed it in her holster, her eyes never leaving Hana's. Hana relaxed marginally. The guard hadn't been waiting to attack her, at least.

"No. I got into the vents, came out in the guards' locker room. I haven't hurt anyone. No one has even seen me other than you." She was extremely lucky to have made it this far, and that she hadn't been discovered by a guard who attacked first.

The guard nodded, and gestured for Hana to walk. As Hana turned and walked back down the corridor, she reported the situation as under control on her headset. She stayed two steps behind Hana, holding her keller at the ready. She wasn't viciously overcautious like a lot of the guards, but she certainly wasn't careless either.

"What's your name?" Hana asked as they turned a corner. Hana wanted to stop, or at least turn around to look at her, but kept walking as the silence stretched out behind her.

"Mitchum," the guard finally answered.

"I'm Hana Thomkas. What's your first name, Officer Mitchum?"

"I know who you are, Ms Thomkas. You were arrested for collaborating with the President." Hana smiled at the lack of a "former" before Mihora's title. It was hardly conclusive, but rather hopeful. It also meant this guard was reasonably well-informed on public affairs, and that could be very helpful.

"Is Madam President being held here too?" she asked eagerly.

"You're asking for classified information now. She is alive and securely detained, and you won't be finding out any more than that from me." Hana could swear she heard a faint smile in the voice behind her, as well as chastisement.

"I'm sorry. What's your first name, Officer Mitchum? Or is that classified information as well?" she asked, hoping to get away with the gentle teasing. Hana figured that her cell was ten minutes walk away, although since she'd spent hours crawling through vents without a very good sense of direction, she could well have gotten further away than she thought. And of course, other guards could take custody of her in the meantime.

"Mikare," the guard said, after another reluctant pause.

"Pretty name, Mikare. Cyrillian?"

"I'm a member of the Ark Fleet, Ms Thomkas." The answer came automatically, with a hint of defensiveness.

"Of course. I mean, to get into the Colonial Guard, you'd have to be," Hana back-pedalled in alarm. "I was just asking about your family, I guess."

"Are these the questions you were so curious about, that you broke out of your cell to know?" She sounded more curious than defensive, and Hana smiled in relief.

"No. Should I be desperately trying to pump you for information now, or are you going to honour our deal?"

"Provided there's a keller missing from the locker room, and there aren't any injured guards lying around," Mikare answered, as they approached a guard station. "Now stop."

Hana turned to face her, and dropped her hands, ignoring Mikare's hand as it twitched around the keller. "You're just going to turn me over to them? I said I'd let you return me to my cell, I didn't say anything about cooperating with the rest of the guards." Most of them didn't need an excuse to hit a prisoner.

"You don't have much choice in the matter. You have no weapon, and the three of them could take you easily," the guard stated baldly. "I can't leave my post to be your personal escort. Cooperate with them, and I'll make sure they know there is no reason to harm you. You won't go unpunished for escaping, but I can recommend that you merely have restricted privileges. You're a category 3 prisoner with no prior incidents, right?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Yes. I'm already down to level 4 privileges though, since I wasn't particularly helpful during their last interrogation of me." She hated the fact that she didn't get meals or exercise with any of the other prisoners, but if no one else got arrested on information she had provided, it was worth it.

"You mean you're not always this talkative? In that case, you'll probably be knocked down to level five for a while."

"Nutrition supplements with no actual food, and no showers. Charming. I suggest you visit me soon, then, before the stench gets out of hand," she said wryly.

Mikare smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"May I ask that you report that you talked me into dropping my weapon without telling your superiors about our deal?"

Mikare's smile faded. "Any weakness on your part, such as being desperate for information, could be invaluable to them, and I will be expected to report it."

"If they know, they won't let you talk to me unsupervised. If they let you come at all, they'll order surveillance," and Hana really didn't want that.

"What makes you think I won't report everything? You were arrested for corroborating with a President who betrayed her people. Why shouldn't you be under surveillance?"

"Because I have trouble believing that someone like yourself, with obvious intelligence, a decent bullshit detector and a family history of slavery could believe that a leader like Mihora could really have done all the things she is accused of. It was a hatchet job, and they're looking for new people to denounce her, and forgive me for not wanting to be one of them." Hana took a breath, and Mikare waited. "And while I believe that you have been honest with me, I have no idea whether you would feed me misinformation if ordered to."

"Of course I would. I am a member of the Colonial Guard, and we follow orders."

"Then don't give them the opportunity to order you to betray your word and your rightful President." Please, she silently pleaded. Please don't trigger another interrogation. Please don't lie to me.

Mikare stayed silent for a few long moments, then called out for the guards, two men and an older woman.  
"Ms Thomkas is to be taken back to her cell. There's no need to restrain her, as she voluntarily surrendered and has agreed to cooperate."

Mikare's face was carefully blank as Hana allowed herself to be led away without resisting.

*******

By the time Mikare came, Hana had sung every nursery rhyme she could remember at least twice, sung all of the 28 Colonial Anthems, counted the cracks on the ceiling and had checked again for any other weak spots, since the vent had been resealed too tightly to be of any use to her. She'd also tried talking to each and every guard that passed her, through each of the three rotated eight hour shifts. None of them had acknowledged her, even when she'd taken to just trying to startle them. She tried not to overanalyse her encounter with Mikare, which was the only conversation she'd had since being arrested that wasn't punctuated with threats or violence, for indications of loyalty or trustworthiness. Or for indications of secret patriotism that would lead to springing her and organising a rebellion to reinstate the government. If she hoped for too much, it may well lead to trusting too much to one unknown guard, which would be recklessly taunting fate. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but be nervous in anticipation. Officer Mitchum had been true to her word, in that apart from a change in meals, no escort to the showers, and the library cart bypassing her cell, she had not been punished. It was an extraordinarily lenient treatment, considering she'd escaped from her cell and stolen a weapon. Even if she hadn't actually hurt or threatened anyone, going armed was a not insignificant offence for a civilian aboard a military ship even if you weren't an escaped prisoner. It seemed unlikely. It could be because Officer Mitchum had more authority or influence than Hana thought, or that she'd lied to her superiors about the weapon. Alternatively, it could be because she told them everything, and they were planning on reassuring her that Mikare could be trusted in order to get her to tell their spy where the surviving Ministers were hiding.

When she came, she was out of uniform. Her blonde hair was loose about her face, as opposed to the severe bun she'd worn last time Hana saw her. It had been hard to tell at all under the regulation slate-grey cap. Now, she was wearing cargo pants and a tight black singlet with berries on it. Hana looked up when she heard the chair sliding across the concrete floor, instantly recognising Mikare and approving of the changes. Out of the uniform, she looked young, maybe five years younger than Hana's thirty-two years. Hana swung around on her cot, remaining seated but facing the clear wall at the front of her cell. Either Mikare was unusually casual about regulations, or someone was going out of their way to get Hana to see past the uniform.

"Glad to see you, Mikare."

Mikare placed the chair directly in front of the cell and sat down on it in a pose that screamed forced casualness. "It's Officer Mitchum to you," she said bluntly.

Hana smiled. Surely, if she was here to gain and then betray her trust, she'd try to be more friendly?

"When it was my job to meet and greet all those important people, I missed being able to speak informally. All those complicated titles that encourage people to act the part, to be dignified and behave themselves. Like uniforms, I suppose."

"I'm off-duty," Mikare grudgingly answered the unasked question.

"But this is still one of the public areas, even if only guards come here. I thought you were only allowed to be out of uniform in your own quarters?"

Mikare shrugged. "No one complains if they like the view. If you ever get out of here, and feel like going back into journalism, check out the infringement records. No reasonably attractive female has ever been penalised for being out of uniform, unless someone was holding a grudge against her."

Hana raised an eyebrow. She had thought the Colonial Guard was a little stricter than most institutions, regardless of how attractive its officers were.

Mikare shrugged again. "It's not as if we're forced to prance around in bikinis."

"No, I suppose not." Actually, being held captive by prancing lifeguards would provide a welcome distraction. "Are you on your way anywhere?"

"For someone who claims to be desperate for news of the outside world, you don't seem to mind wasting time talking about me," Mikare pointed out.

"I just wanted to know if I was going to be strictly on the clock here." And she wanted to know as much about Officer Mitchum as possible, and not just to find out if she was trustworthy or sympathetic to the President. How did a migrant from one of the most oppressed colonies end up working for the military force primarily responsible?

"No, I don't have anywhere to rush off to," Mikare answered her. "I'm off-duty, I've been to the mess hall, and was just heading back to my bunk. I'll leave as soon as I don't feel like talking, or as soon as you push me for anything I shouldn't tell you, even if it's before fifteen minutes."

"Understood," Hana did always like a woman with ground-rules. "What went in your report?"

Mikare eyed her appraisingly. "That you were non-violent, and not a significant security risk. You had acquired a weapon, but surrendered it voluntarily when confronted. You were probably hoping to access a console for information or to contact outside sources, but didn't appear to have any more complex plan."

"That's it?"

"They'll probably call for a more detailed report from me fairly soon."

"Before the next round of interrogation." It was almost a question, but Mikare didn't answer. Hana pulled herself together.

"I'd like to know what's been happening. What can you tell me?"

Mikare took a breath and started speaking, as if reciting a news broadcast. "The situation is fairly stable now. There were quite a few demonstrations at first, protests on many different ships, but there hasn't been one for over a week. Most of the protests turned violent, and riot police were called in. There was some initial press outrage at the notion of a military coup, but there was also a lot of outrage about the President using a secret strike force to sabotage the negotiations with Marieska, so there were large numbers of people calling for her impeachment and arrest beforehand, which you'd probably remember." Hana nodded absently. "A number of politicians and public figures were very vocal about the use of the military, in particular the use of lethal force, but the loudest voices were in collusion with her, and were arrested. The media is full of new outrages and cover-ups that are just now coming to light from before the coup, especially in the last days, and there are still a lot of new arrests. What else?"

"Who was killed?" Hana asked, successfully keeping the tremor out of her voice. She wasn't sure she wanted to know which families had been torn apart, but she had to ask.

"Security, mostly. Most of the Senators and Ministers immediately surrendered once the General's forces boarded. Minister Watkins and Senator Mina were killed during the incursion, and Merian Kel died in the infirmary the next day. That's all that I can remember," she said apologetically.

Hana closed her eyes for a moment. She'd known Hari Mina for many years, and was almost a surrogate aunt to his children. She forced herself back to the present, as she probably didn't have much time with Mikare.

"Have there been any trials yet?"

"Not yet, but there have been a few publicly announced confessions. Those people aren't being held here, I don't know where they are."

"Are people actually getting charged with crimes? Or are a lot of people merely being held for interrogation?"

"I'm not actually sure," she said thoughtfully, breaking eye contact and staring over Hana's shoulder. "Some are being charged with terrorism, treason, breaches of national security, resisting arrest, disturbing the peace, withholding information, interfering with a criminal investigation, those sort of charges. Others have been taken into custody, and I'm not sure who's been charged and who hasn't."

"Do they actually believe she's guilty?" Mikare's attention snapped back to Hana. "Do you?" Hana asked her quietly.

Mikare stared at her, then dropped her eyes to the hands on her lap and shrugged. "They've got a lot of witnesses and experts who think so."

"Do you think so?" Hana pressed.

"I wouldn't know," Mikare answered quietly. "It's not my place."

"That's bullshit."

Mikare didn't meet her eyes, and got up and turned away. "I'll be heading to my quarters now. Good night to you, Ms Thomkas."

"Mikare, wait!" Hana leaped up, moving fast to the front of her cell. Mikare hesitated, and Hana spoke quickly. "I'm sorry for pushing, and thank you for coming here and talking to me. I really appreciate it. It has been so difficult to have no idea what's happened to my colleagues, to listen to accusations against good people. The conflicting reports, the propaganda, the violence and the misinformation that was everywhere. And now the silence since my arrest, of not knowing if they're still alive, if they've turned on each other, if the Colonies are in revolt, if they just adjusted to martial law and a military dictatorship, and all the other what-ifs that I can't help imagining." She took a shaky breath. "Thankyou, Mikare, for making me feel not quite so alone."

"You're welcome," Mikare half-whispered without turning around, then walked away. Half an hour later, one of the patrolling guards removed the chair without acknowledging Hana at all.

*******

Hana was at a bit of a loss after that. The state of affairs was about as she'd expected - better than she'd feared, not as good as she'd hoped. She felt like she'd reached Mikare, at least a little, but there was no way she could think of to see her again. She'd been amazingly lucky with her aborted escape, but she couldn't see any way of repeating that. And even if she could get out of her cell, she'd have no way of finding her way out, evading capture, or even just finding Mikare again. She resolved to take any opportunity that was presented her, but after three days she had all but given up hope when she saw Mikare again. She was in full uniform, reporting to one of the guards down the corridor from Hana's cell. When Hana called out for a guard, she stiffened, but did not look up. She was in Hana's field of view from her cell for all of about five minutes, and didn't once look in Hana's direction.

It was seven shift changes later that Officer Mitchum and two other guards came to Hana's cell with ties. The two others, a rangy man and a twitchy woman, pointed their weapons at her and ordered her to stand still with arms outstretched in front of her, and no talking. The cell door opened, and Mikare knelt in front of her and tightened the loops around her ankles, looking up at her to make sure she wasn't moving, then stood quickly and pulled the other loops firmly around her wrists. Mikare then laid a cool hand on her arm, and Hana followed her lead and shuffled to stand outside her cell. When she asked where they were going, the woman savagely backhanded her and repeated the order of no talking. She took comfort in feeling Mikare's hand instinctively tighten on her arm, even if it was probably only to ensure she didn't fight back or fall over. She couldn't help feeling that she had a sympathiser, if not an actual ally, but that didn't stop her feeling afraid of whatever was coming. She followed the guards meekly into a room down the corridor, where she was shoved into a chair at the desk in the centre of the otherwise empty room. Mikare and the male guard stood behind her, out of even her peripheral vision, and the woman left the room. When Hana tried to twist around, a nightstick clanged loudly against the back of the chair, and she flinched. It could have come from either guard, but she instinctively knew that it had been Officer Mitchum, warning her not to look for support from that corner.

When the door reopened in front of her, the woman that had hit her earlier returned with a man in a suit. Hana thought that he looked vaguely familiar, which meant that he'd probably been one of Marieska's aides before. She imagined there'd probably been a lot of promotions in the last month. He sat down opposite her and spoke quietly but authoritatively, and directed her attention to the sheets he'd placed in front of her. When she didn't take them, he nodded to the male guard. Hana arched off the seat as the keller pressed into her lower back, delivering a short but painful burst of electricity.

"We already know you were responsible for liaising with strike team. We know you falsified records and covered Mihora's tracks. We know enough about all your crimes, that if we showed the people everything you've done then turned you loose, you'd be publicly lynched. This statement is a list of everything we already know," Hana looked down at the papers. "You are being kept here for your own protection, but we can't help you until you admit your part in the mistakes of the corrupt regime. Add whatever you need to this statement, then sign it, and we can protect you. We won't have to keep punishing you if you just admit your crimes, and admit that Mihora led you astray."

Every item damned her, the President, and everyone she'd ever worked with. She shook her head. The man glanced up over her shoulder, and she heard the half-step towards her before she felt the keller and screamed.

*******

Hana woke on the floor, in as close to the recovery position as the ties would allow. She couldn't hear anyone, and cautiously lifted her head, which ached a great deal.

"They thought you were faking when you passed out, so they kellered you again."

Hana's head snapped around towards the voice, and moaned as pain lanced through her back. Mikare was instantly at her side, holding her head still and softly but firmly telling her not to move.

"…happened?" Hana croaked out, coughing a few times to clear her throat, which felt raw. The coughs reverberated down her back, sending out radiating spikes of agony.

"You were tortured. You have broken bones in your left foot, most of the burns and cuts are superficial but the burn on your calf looks worse, and you probably have a concussion. You should really be taken to a doctor." Mikare sounded horrified as she recited the list. "Short story, you're in pain and are going to stay in pain for a while."

"The guards?" she asked, trying not to think about all the places that hurt.

"There was a riot in one of the other blocks. They were called away, and I doubt they'll be back for at least an hour. You should try to get some rest." Hana registered Mikare's concerned face hovering over centimetres over hers. She wanted to reach out and touch her face, to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

"Why aren't you there too?"

"You're not much of a security risk unconscious in a locked room. It's not that." Hana thought she detected a slight tremor in the guard's voice. "Your heartbeat was irregular. You could easily have died." Mikare took off her cap and dabbed it gently against Hana's face. The guards had hit her across the face a few times before she passed out, and a cut in her eyebrow had bled quite a bit. Hana could feel her cheek swelling around her teeth. She winced as Mikare touched a particularly sore spot, and Mikare withdrew her hand awkwardly.

"Can I sit up?" she asked after a long moment. Mikare slid her arm under Hana's neck and helped raise her slowly to a sitting position, the ties not helping Hana help herself. Hana, exhausted, bound and still groggy, could not hold herself up and slumped back into Mikare's waiting arms. She knew that this guard, for all her apparent empathy, had tortured her as ordered not too long ago, but she couldn't help being grateful to have her there.

"Are they finished with me? For today at least?" The thought of starting all over again was too horrific to comprehend.

"I'm not sure. I won't let them use the keller on you again, at least. I think you may have an underlying mild heart condition that makes it life-threatening as well as painful."

"You won't let them?" Hana wasn't sure whether to be amused or incredulous at Mikare's calm assurance, but couldn't help but be comforted a little as well.

"I trained as a nurse, and anyone with more medical experience than that will be too busy dealing with the injuries from the riot. They'll believe me enough to not use it again until they can get you hooked up to a heart monitor and a doctor tells them otherwise." There was some bitterness in her voice, and Hana absently wondered if she'd wanted to be a doctor. Med schools were well known for being very elitist, despite attempts to regulate their intake. "I can recommend they leave you alone completely until you've rested, but I can't guarantee that they will. They might still get creative with low-tech," she warned.

Hana stayed quiet, thinking that Mikare would have made a good doctor, as Mikare gently resumed dabbing away the worst of the blood on her face. Hana shifted awkwardly, half in her lap, and the sudden flare of pain in her back caused her to cry out.

"The muscle pain is an after-effect of the keller, but there's no permanent damage to your back. It will be very sore for the next few days though," Mikare tried to reassure her.

"It hurts so much," Hana whimpered.

"There was nothing I could do," she replied with quiet anguish in her voice. "I told him you were already unconscious, but they wouldn't listen to me. I tried to get them to stop after you passed out, I did, but they just kept going."

"Not your fault," she gasped out, hardly believing that she was trying to reassure someone who had so recently helped torture her.

"I'm still sorry. For what I did. For everything I can't do."

She sounded so sincerely horrified that Hana couldn't help but believe her. She had no idea how Mikare got here, but it was obvious that it clearly wasn't where she wanted to be. It hadn't saved her, but she took comfort in knowing that at the very least, she had hated hurting her. "Thank you. For doing what you can," she said, taking Mikare's hand in hers.

Mikare cradled Hana in her arms. "You're welcome."

All of the fear and grief and pain Hana had endured, the rumours and storming troops and isolation and demands and beatings, they all welled up inside her and burst forth in an overwhelming tide of gasping sobs. Mikare clutched her tighter, trying to limit the big shudders that triggered waves of new pain from her abused back muscles. They babbled over each other, through the sobs, keening waves of pain and fears and apologies and meaningless comforts. Mikare brokenly pleaded with Hana to just tell them what they wanted to know, that she could be transferred to the infirmary and the pain could go away if only she'd just sign it. The coup was over, it had been successful, she wasn't supposed to know but the President had been killed, there wasn't anything or anyone left to protect now, all she was doing was giving them an excuse to keep hurting her, and please she didn't want to see her suffering so much, please let it be over, please don't make her watch that again, don't make her do that again. If the form was signed, then she could be taken to the infirmary now, she could have something for the pain, she could be cleaned off properly and her burns treated, she'd be taken care of. They'd already won, couldn't she see that?

Hana's sobs trailed off as Mikare's litany continued, and she slumped, utterly defeated.

Mikare brought the papers over from the desk, then left the room as Hana signed them, murmuring that she'd be right back. Together, they made it to their feet, and Hana lurched into the wheelchair Mikare had found. Mikare left the papers on the floor behind them as she wheeled her out into the corridor. Hana tasted bile in the back of her throat as the identically grey walls blurred by her too fast. She let Mikare help her out of the chair and settle her onto a bed with white sheets, and passively offered her arm for the drip of painkillers and sedative into one arm. Mikare took her other hand, and sat next to her. She stayed with her as she lost consciousness, and she was asleep in the chair, head pillowed on the bed by Hana's waist, still holding her hand, when Hana resurfaced, groggy and numb. Her throat constricted as she tried to talk, but nothing came out, and she sank down into the fog again.

She thought she felt a brush of lips of her forehead at one point, and she remembered voices at another. She woke up alone once, and closed her eyes and willed herself asleep again. Another time, shapes in grey uniforms that she couldn't quite focus on talked to her, and she answered them as well as she could. The next time she woke up, Mikare was back, holding her hand, and they were both awake.

"Hey," Mikare smiled as Hana's eyes opened.

"Hey," Hana focused on her, and drowsily smiled back.

*******

Later that day, a doctor took the dressing off her head. The eyebrow hid the cut fairly well, and most of the swelling and bruising had faded while she was unconscious. A brisk and cheerful woman came and washed, blow-dried and cut Hana's hair, then put foundation, concealer, blush, eye-shadow, mascara and lipstick on her. The brush strokes felt weird against her skin, distanced as if being painted on a rubber mask she wore. She needed Mikare's help to change into the suit provided, the jacket needing to be pulled over shoulders too sore to move themselves. She was wheeled in front of the camera, and she read the speech in front of her, years of working with a teleprompter serving her well.

Afterwards, she was wheeled back to the infirmary, and she could feel the painkillers wearing off as she was helped back into bed. She rolled her arm outwards, eyes closed, veins up, and the anticipated injection came shortly after. As the world receded, she thought she could hear the sound of a woman crying.


End file.
